


Confession

by SisterDuffin



Category: Casualty (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-03
Updated: 2019-07-03
Packaged: 2020-06-03 06:04:27
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19457902
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SisterDuffin/pseuds/SisterDuffin
Summary: After ending up in hospital after her fall, Duffy faces the possibility of everyone finding out about her depression and anxiety diagnosis. [Speculation for S33, E15. Disregards the Dementia storyline]





	Confession

She groaned slightly as she came round, unsure to how she’d got in the predicament she was in. As she tried to sit up, a shooting pain through her left shoulder stopped her.

What the hell…? How the hell had she got here? She swallowed the nausea, the feeling of wanting to vomit growing in intensity along with the pain. She slowly sat up, her head and her shoulder throbbing and managed to get to the phone. Calling herself an ambulance, she opened the door and settled herself on the stairs.

She closed her eyes as she tried to piece together the events that had led to her being on her back, in the hall.

She remembered getting home from work, hanging her coat up and walking to the stairs but after that, she couldn’t quite piece together what had happened and how she’d become injured. Duffy took a deep breath, more so to stop her from vomiting when there was a knock on the front door.

“Hello, Ambulance Service.”

Jan. She wasn’t sure if she was delighted at the prospect of being treated by Jan. Yes, she was a good paramedic but they were also friends (and that meant Jan knew when Duffy wasn’t telling the whole truth about something)

“Duffy? Is that you?”

Duffy nodded in response to Jan’s question and then regretted her actions, when her stomach began to swim. Slightly biting her lower lip, she swallowed again, desperate to keep the contents of her stomach inside.

“What happened?”

Ruby closed the door behind her as Jan crouched down in front of Duffy.

“I fainted.”

“You fainted?”

She was about to answer when she closed her eyes again. “I think, I think I’m going to be sick.”

Ruby looked around the hall and finding the bin, handing it to Duffy. She gratefully took the bin and threw up. As a nurse she could handle sick, she could handle being puked on but there was just something about emptying the contents of her own stomach that she hated.

“Sorry.”

Examining her, Jan and Ruby concluded that Duffy had dislocated her shoulder. Duffy knew that already, she’d guessed she’d dislocated it as soon as she came round. She was given five of morphine at the scene before her arm/elbow was strapped for support.

“Please don’t take me to Holby.”

“It’s closer.” Jan pointed out, “we’ll ring ahead and let them know, that way that husband of yours won’t panic when he sees you being wheeled in by us.”

She smiled sadly, still wanting to protest that despite Holby being closer; she wanted to go to St James. The journey to the hospital was awkward, Ruby attempting to make small talk to fill the ever growing awkwardness.

“Is there… erm… a particular reason you don’t want to go to Holby?”

Duffy shook her head. It was mostly the Charlie situation. She didn’t want her husband to treat her nor did she want her fellow colleagues to discover that she was been medicated on fluoxetine for depression and anxiety. Ruby nodded accepting her explanation. It was a reasonable answer to the question. Five minutes later, they arrived at the hospital and Duffy found her chest becoming tighter. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to reason with herself. She couldn’t have a panic attack in front of her colleagues.

She swallowed the feel of nausea, noticing her palms had become clammy. She kept trying to focus on her breathing. If she had a panic attack, everyone would soon realise it wasn’t the first one she’d ever had.

“This is Lisa Fairhead, 57. She fainted at home and has a laceration to the left side of her head and has also dislocated her shoulder. Vital signs were within normal range, 5 of morphine given at the scene.”

She sat on the bed, a silent protest at her wishes being ignored and having to come to Holby. It was more hassle than it was worth. She’d been there less than two minutes when Charlie arrived at the cubicle with a look of concern on his face.

“I’m fine,” she said before he had chance to even ask the question. He’d asked Connie to take a look at her on her arrival, she was the best Doctor in the department and seeing as he wasn’t allowed to treat her; he wanted the best. Duffy felt Charlie’s hand slid into hers and she smiled slightly as he gave her hand a reassuring squeeze.

“Connie will be here in a minute.” At that very second, before Duffy could even question why she was getting special treatment - Connie stepped into the cubicle.

“What happened?”

“I fainted.”

“Were you knocked out at all?”

There was a pause. She did debate lying but with Charlie in the room, she knew it was pointless. He’d immediately know she wasn’t telling the whole truth and she was too tired to deal with the agro. She nodded, “a minute or so. I, I don’t know.”

Connie nodded, “I’ll send you for a CT scan but first, I’m going to do bloods and an ECG, okay?”

Duffy nodded. She glanced at Charlie. She knew as soon as they requested her medical records, her mental health status would become public knowledge. She considered talking to Connie but she couldn’t, she didn’t want to be seen as weak. Deep down, it was the reason she didn’t talk to Charlie. He needed her. She was his rock. How could she tell him, she was struggling?

“I’m going to get Robyn to take some bloods—“ Charlie said quietly but Duffy shook her head. She didn’t want anyone else to know she was here (not that she could keep it a secret in a place like Holby) but she wanted to keep her dignity for as long as possible.

“I want you to do it.”

Charlie looked at Connie and the two exchanged a look. Connie knew Charlie shouldn’t be anywhere near, not in a professional capacity and he shouldn’t be treating her. However, Connie was also aware of how stubborn Duffy could be. Weighing up the risks, Connie nodded agreeing for Charlie to take her bloods. She was here and if she thought he was getting too emotionally involved, she’d pull him away.

Duffy watched Charlie as he collected the test tubes and filled it with her blood. The morphine was making her feel a little sick (although that might have been the cut to her head too) As Charlie disappeared to send the blood to the lab, Connie asked.

“Is there anything you want to tell me?”

Duffy sighed. There was nothing exchanged between both women and Connie sighed herself. She took Duffy’s silence as an answer, that there was something on her mind.

“Whatever you say will remain confidential.” She told her gently. Hoping that she might be able to get Duffy to see that she was only here to help. Duffy’s fingertips began to run over her thigh. She swallowed but remained silent. For now.

“I….” she was about to say something when Charlie returned. She immediately shut up. Charlie didn’t need the stress, he already had enough to deal with regarding this place. Connie looked at Duffy and then to Charlie. Despite being a good reader of people, she couldn’t quite work out what Duffy was hiding. There was definitely something, that Duffy was afraid of letting people know.

“Before we do the CT, I’ll have to send you for an X-ray. Make sure there’s no damage to the ligaments in your shoulder.”

“Is that really necessary, can’t we just put it back into place?”

“A think an X-ray would be appropriate.”

“Connie, just put my shoulder back into place will you? Thank you.”

Charlie knew best than to try and convince Duffy to have the X-ray. Once her mind was made up about something, she dug her heels in.

“Charlie, will you go and grab some gas and air?”

“I don’t need gas and air, will you please just do it.”

Connie nodded. “Are you sure you don’t want the gas and air?”

“Yes.”

Charlie sighed and shook his head. Now she was being ridiculous. He was about to say something just as Connie began to undo the sling. She carefully held Duffy’s hand and the top of her shoulder.

“On the count of three. One, two….” on three, Connie slotted Duffy’s shoulder back into place. Duffy squeezed her eyes closed but barely made a sound which surprised both Connie and Charlie. Duffy slowly opened her eyes as she felt her shoulder slot back into place. Her fingers entwined with Charlie’s hand.

“I’m going to organise a post reduction shoulder x-ray, I won’t be long.”

Duffy smiled, “thank you.” As Connie left them alone, she looked down at her hand in Charlie’s. She began to stroke her thumb over the back of his hand.

“Are you feeling okay?”

She smiled sadly and nodded. “Just tired.” She admitted. Sleep wasn’t something that was coming easily to her lately. She continued stroking her thumb over his hand, biting her lower lip.

“Do you think it was wise not having pain relief?”

She rolled her eyes, “Charlie I’ve had three children without any pain relief. Putting my shoulder back into place was a doddle in comparison to that.”

He smiled sadly as he caught her gaze and moved his hand to her cheek. She tilted her head closer to his hand, a sad smile upon her face and her eyes beginning to fill with tears.

“Charlie?”

“Yes?”

“There’s… erm, something I need to tell you.”

“What’s that?”

She paused. She wasn’t sure how she was going to say this. How could she tell him she’d been lying to him for the past few months?

“Duffy?”

“I….” she paused again, closing her eyes. Why was this so much harder to say? Why couldn’t she just come out with it? She reopened her eyes and met Charlie’s gaze. She took a deep breath, her teeth scraping the top of her lower lip.

“I’m depressed.”

“Depressed?” He frowned. No she couldn’t be depressed. He’d have known, he’d had depression himself, he knew the signs. He was also mental health trained, how hadn’t he noticed?

She burst into tears and nodded. The emotions of the last six weeks or so, bubbled over the surface and she sobbed, burying her head into his chest. Charlie wrapped his arm around her, careful not to hurt her. He closed his eyes. Why hadn’t he noticed? He knew the answer to his own question, he’d spent too much time here that he’d failed to notice his own wife needed him. He kissed the top of her head.

“How long?”

“I was diagnosed six weeks ago. I think, I can’t remember.”

“Were you given medication?”

“Fluoxetine.” She replied through her sobs. She knew he was disappointed in her. He didn’t need someone like her bringing him down. Her breathing began to quicken and she realised she was having a panic attack. She gripped his shirt tightly in her hand as she struggled to breathe.

“Sweetheart, deep breathes. In and out.” He encouraged her gently, hoping his voice would be enough for her to gain control of her breathing. For a couple of minutes, it didn’t seem to work, her breathing was just as fast and laboured but the more he talked to her; the more she regained control.

“It’s alright, I’ll make it alright.”

She continued to grip the top of his shirt, her body feeling exhausted after crying so much. She closed her eyes, her head still in his chest.

“Budge up.” He whispered.

“Hmm?” She moved her head from his chest and moved further into the middle of the bed. Charlie sat beside her and as soon as he placed his arm around her, she buried her head back into his chest.

He tangled his fingers through her hair, playing with the ends as she relaxed against him. He kissed the top of her head.

“I love you.”

“Love you too.” She answered sleepily before falling asleep easily for the first time in months. 


End file.
